hero of a different kind
by hi-im-mrs-mellark
Summary: I feel empty, broken, void. He has gone. Now all I can picture is him with a bullet in his heart and red staining his uniform. I need him to come home. I need to be with him to know that he is safe, that he isn't as broken as I am. I miss him. One-shot. I am pretty shitty at summaries but the story is pretty good! I cried while writing it! Please read!


To all of you who follow me, I didn't die! I just went on a very long hiatus! but im back and writing again! I have been preparing another HG story for a while now but I thought I would take a break on that to post this little one shot that was stuck in my head and wouldn't leave. It's a little emotional and super cute! Pretty please leave a review and tell me how you feel about this story and whether I should do more like this!

so now... please enjoy!

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><p>The house seems so vacant now. So very empty and hollow. The warmth has vanished as if it was just sucked away. The plants have begun to die; he was always the one to care for them. It's as if life can no longer live in this dreary house. It is so void of the happiness that once filled the place. And it is all because he is gone.<p>

Any evidence that he used to live here has begun to disappear. The pictures are the only thing that I can cling to, that and my memories, though they are beginning to fade. The indent his sleeping form left in the bed has been worn out, leaving the mattress feeling too big, too cold, and too empty. I cling to the sheets and pretend it is him though it helps in no way, they are just as chilling, just as lifeless as the rest of the house.

Prim has began to worry. She comes past the house regularly now to check up on me. She tries to remind me of cheerful times when he was here but the bareness of my heart now that he has gone doesn't allow me to enjoy it. She watches me with a sadness in her eyes and though I hate it, I see the tears that brim her eyes. She fears that im turning into mother. I am. I hate it. But I know I am.

My neighbours also stop by daily. They bring me cooked meals, reassure me that he will be home soon, and try to get me to go out but all to no success. I have stopped answering the door to them lately. I don't want their pity. I just want to be swallowed by the stark, blank world and disappear.

My life has become a dreary, ongoing routine with no relent. I wake up screaming, sweaty, dishevelled with an ache in my heart, a fear in my mind and the images of him being shot behind my eyelids. I peel myself from the saddening bed and force myself into the searing waves of trickling water from the shower. I usually stand there for too long. Hours. I eat the food that fills my cupboards though it all tastes bitter. I climb onto the sofa that we used to spend hours sitting at together, cuddled up in each other's arms, in each other's warmth though now its chilling and fading. I stare at the flickering flames of the fire for large sections of the day before finally eating dinner. I then sit up until late into the night, fearing sleep and the brutal images it brings along with it. I want to see him. But not like that. Not will glazed eyes and a bullet in his heart.

I have began to hate myself for feeling this way. For feeling so depressed and dejected. He was trying to do good. He was trying to help. I should be happy, proud of him but I cant because he isn't here with me. He hasn't been with me for well over a year and a half now. I miss him. I damn well miss him so much.

Today is different. I don't even attempt to get out of bed. I don't eat. I don't drink. I don't talk. I don't scream and I don't cry. I lay still. I could be easily mistaken for dead. That's how I feel; dead. My mind screams at me. "What do you think he would feel like seeing you this way?!" it shouts. "Stop being so selfish! He never rejected you!" are the words that pound through my scull though they don't have an effect.

I know im being stupid. He didn't want to go. He wanted to come home to me but the world had other plans. Prim has told me what others think of my behaviour. "oh, it's not like he has been gone long! She really should get out of that bed", "it is a little sad, but I think she should at least _try_ to live normally". Their words are brutal on Prim. She hates how they speak of me. I also hate it. He would hate it as well.

Finnick came over the other day, the look in his eyes broke me. But he understands, maybe not the full extent of what my mind is going through but he understands. He misses him as well. He fears what it must be like for him. Though we spent the first few hours of the day in silence, Finnick did end up making me smile. He told me about Annie. Annie, the sweet, innocent, delicate lady that Finnick now calls his fiancé. Finnick also promised me that the wedding won't happen until im ready to leave the house so that I can go to it. That made me happy but it also made me sad. I might never be ready, because he may never return. That thought made me cry and then Finnick cried and then we hugged and then he left.

I tried leaving the house yesterday; I got as far as the park at the end of my street before the livid memories of our times together became too much. I remembered when we ran this street in the middle of the night when no one else was around, we had shouted and danced and kissed. We used to kiss a lot. I ended up in tears when I re-entered my house.

Today was no different to every other. Though my nightmares were more visual and more gruesome. I saw him be tortured. His clothes were torn as if a tiger had been let at it. His face was scarred and covered in a thick layer of a mixture of sweat and black dust. He had a cut above his eye and one crossing his lip. A large puddle of blood wrapped around his neck in a darkened mess as if it were strangling him. His hands tied. His legs tied. A man dressed in all black stood above him, my mind creating him overly tall and daunting. He held a bloodied metal bat with uneven dents. It was then that I registered the bruise on his calf just below where his pant leg was torn off and another ugly one adorning his cheek. He is hurt and broken. His eyes are what woke me though. His piercing blue eyes were no longer blue, they were the deepest black.

My screams had been louder than usual when I woke; my throat was coarse and sore. I chocked on a sob as I rocked myself back and forth in an attempt to hold all my crumbling pieces together.

He has to come home. I have to know he is alive. I need his touch, his love, his lips. I need his warmth and presence, his caring thoughts, his understanding. I need this house to feel lived in again. I need him. I need him so much that it scares me and hurts me but I don't care. I just need Peeta to come home.

I had struggled to pull myself together when a loud knock at the door rattled through the house. I thought about leaving it; Prim hadn't told me she was coming over so it was probably the neighbour. But the second round of knocks had forced me out of bed. I slugged toward the door and didn't care that my cheeks were tear stained, my hair a mess and my throat on fire. I staggered slightly before pulling it open.

He was there. He was standing at my door. His face wasn't scarred, his heart didn't have a bullet in it and there was no bruise covering his cheek. I thought it was a hallucination for a while, my mind playing evil tricks on me but when his blue eyes began to fill with tears and his arms pulled me in tightly against him, I knew it was real.

He was home.

He was safe.

My Peeta.

My soldier.

I heard gasps and unbelieving sighs from around me; the small town we lived in were always prying for new gossip and I don't doubt that Sgt P Mellark's return will be the only thing on their lips for a while.

I quickly pulled him into the house and slammed the door shut behind us.

I pulled away and stared at him. His hair was trimmed short as all soldiers were and he had a bigger build now, other than that nothing had changed. He wore his camouflage uniform and his duffle bag has held tightly in his right hand.

"y-you're home?" I question unbelievingly as I subconsciously raise my hands to caress his face, though it doesn't work too well as my hands shake uncontrollably.

"yes, Katniss" he whispers in a hoarse voice as tears trickle out of his eyes. I dive forward and pepper his face with soft kisses and I hold onto him for dear life.

"I love you, I love you, I love you" I repeat over and over again in hysteria. I finally pull away and my eyes change from loving and caring to saddened and angry.

"why did you leave! Why did you have to leave me here!" I shout at him as I begin to pound my hands against his chest as hard as I can. "I cant live without you! I don't want to! Never leave again!"

My punches become weaker as my tears begin to take over. "Promise me you will never leave again" I whisper, distressed.

"I promise Katniss. I will always be here with you" he whispers into my hair, his warm breath rewarming my heart and returning it to a normal state. "I missed you" he croaks through his own tears. "I missed you like hell. Sgt Boggs told me I am crazy in love… I guess I am"

We cling to eachother for hours. I reminisce in the feeling of him. Here. With me. Always.

My love, my soldier, my Peeta left on the 23rd of May 2013. It is now the 30th of November 2014 and he has finally returned. Peeta was not forced into deployment, though he would of chose to stay with me over it, any day. He faced things he wishes would never be seen by our world; young children murdered, his friends killed, the use of weaponry for no reason and it broke him, just as one and a half years without a clue in the world whether he was safe or not broke me. We are going to mend each other as we always do and I will be able to say that my love left to war to protect our country and survived through it all.

We will be together now, always.

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><p>TADA! I know it's short, it was always meant to be. I respect soldiers and their loved ones so much, I cant understand all that they must go through just to protect our loved country. If you are a member of the army, my respect goes out to you, you are a strong and caring person! I just had to get the words out of my head so I hope you enjoyed!<p>

Please review and tell me what you think of Soldier! Peeta stories :) thinking of doing some more because I love soldier! Peeta... I must have a thing for men in uniform! :)


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